Seemingly Mundane Activities with the Winchesters
by jremme
Summary: Just a collection of little ficlets depicting Sam and Dean doing basic things with that Winchester twist.
1. breakfast with the Winchesters

**A/N: Hello all!! This is going to be a series of stand-alone one-shots****, hopefully****. I'm going ****to try**** a bit of an experiment with this. I'm going to start with this one, and if you like it, please review and let me know, but also, give me another activity**** or scenario**** that you'd like to see for the next one, and I'll ****attempt to ****write it with the Winchester spin. ****Present or when they were kids,**** doesn't matter, so be specific please. ****If no one likes it, then it'll just stop here. ****So, without further ado, enjoy!!**

**Breakfast-Winchester style**

Sam Winchester was dreaming. Or he thought he was. He heard the sizzle of bacon clearly, could smell it, and it was just too good to be true. He knew he was in a bed in a motel room, and the bacon just didn't fit, so he had to be dreaming.

He opened one eye and scanned his surroundings, his mind still muddled with sleep. His brother was awake already, which was odd in and of itself, but the strangest thing was that, although he was certain he was now awake, the smell and sound persisted.

He recalled the previous night when they had checked in, Dean exclaiming over the tiny kitchen nook in the corner of the room. Sam had just shaken his head. It was definitely different from any other motel room they'd stayed in.

He climbed out of bed and followed the scent to the kitchen nook, the crackling sound becoming louder the closer he got. He saw his brother, clad in an apron, in front of the small stove, a pan of bacon in front of him. On the other burner, Sam noticed a pan of eggs. Since when did they have pans?

"Dean?"

Dean whirled around, showing Sam that the apron he was wearing said 'World's Hottest Chef' in large red letters. Sam stifled a chuckle.

"You're making me breakfast?"

"Absolutely not! I'm making _me_ breakfast. But, as long as you're here, I suppose I could be generous and allow you a slice of bacon or two, maybe some eggs."

"You're too kind….really. Nice apron. Although, I heard it's illegal to print something if it isn't true." Sam stifled a chuckle.

"As long as _I _continue to wear it, it's perfectly legal." Dean leaned over to look in the mirror and shot his reflection a megawatt smile. "Now, if you were to put it on, and it was illegal, you'd be in the slammer so fast, your head would spin."

Sam rolled his eyes and changed topics. "Where did the pans come from?"

"Well, I went out and did a little bit of shopping this morning. Got the pans, a spatula, the bacon, the eggs, and the apron." He looked pleased with himself and Sam decided not to say anything else.

Despite Dean's declaration that the breakfast was for himself, Sam believed firmly that it had been intended for them both to share, and he was thankful for the gesture. They usually went to diners for meals. Sam couldn't remember the last time they'd had something home cooked. Well, in this case, it was motel cooked, but that was beside the point.

He crossed the room to his bag, and pulled out some clean clothes. "I'm gonna shower real quick while you finish up, ok, Emeril?"

"All right, but just hurry, unless of course you like cold eggs. If you do, then take your time."

Sam nodded and headed into the bathroom, leaving Dean alone with his apron, the pans, and an open flame.

Dean flipped the bacon. It was about done, as were the eggs. He glanced out the window to check the sky. When he'd ventured out before, the day had promised to be sunny. It wasn't. It was pouring rain. Dean turned back to the pans and watched the bacon fry for a moment. Then it hit him like ton of bricks. He'd left the window down on the Impala!!

"Sonofabitch!!" he swore, throwing on his jacket, and racing outside in the rain to roll up his window. The wind was blowing and when he made it to the car, he noted that the interior was soaked. When they left later in the day, he was looking at a wet ass.

He frantically rolled the window back up, and locked the car back up when another thought hit him. The food! He'd left the fire on!! He took off through the driving rain back to their room, tracking water all the way, each step making a squish sound as it soaked into the carpet.

He shut the fire off both burners, but it was too late. The eggs were black lumps and the bacon was, quite literally, on fire. Dean panicked for a moment before stupidity took over and he tried to douse the flames with the apron.

It was wet, even though it had been covered by the jacket, but apparently not wet enough. Dean watched a small flame lick the corner of the apron in slow motion. He bit his lip to keep from yelling and alerting Sam. He grabbed the handle of the pan, and, the corner of the apron still burning, ran outside into the rain.

Sam finished his shower, dressed, and headed for the door, ready to eat. The smell of burnt food assailed his nostrils as he came out of the bathroom. He saw the blackened eggs in the pan, but there was no sign of the bacon or Dean. And the door that led to the outside was open.

Worried now, Sam made a beeline for the door, all kinds of scenarios going through his head. Dean could have been abducted…or worse. When he looked outside, he stopped short, and began to laugh.

His brother was standing in the rain, his face lifted to the heavens. He held the other pan in one hand, and Sam could see strips of black on the pavement that he could only assume had been the bacon he'd been looking forward to eating. The apron Dean had been so proud of was burned, the bottom of it singed.

Dean noticed Sam in the doorway, and blew water out of his eyes. "Don't ask. Just don't say anything." He calmly strode past Sam, dumped the empty pan on the stove, and grabbed his jacket and keys.

"Come on, we're going out."

Sam grabbed his own jacket and followed Dean out to the car.

"Aren't you gonna take the apron off?"

"No way, I love this apron!"

"Well, at least it's true now. From the looks of it, you did get pretty hot!"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Or maybe you should get another one that says 'World's Wettest Chef'!"

"SAM!!"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." Sam held up his hands in surrender.

They climbed into the car. Dean was at least slightly comforted by the fact that he was already so drenched his wet car seat didn't make a difference. His ass was already wet.

"I'm never cooking again."

**A/N: So, let me know how it was, and if you want more. And if you do, shoot an idea my way, and I'll get it posted. Anything you want, as long as it's not slashy or M or anything like that. Thank you!**


	2. dating Winchester style

**A/N: Thanks to all who responded. Next up is****immortalwizardpirateelf-fan****'s pick, which is the Winchesters on a double date. ****It's a bit different from your suggestion, but I hope it's sufficient. ****Enjoy!**

**Dating-Winchester style**

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Sam Winchester said as he allowed his brother to pull him into the restaurant.

"Aw, come on, Sammy, why should I have all the fun? You're wasting away, live a little!"

"I'm surprised you didn't wear that stupid apron."

"Yea, well, I didn't think it'd make a good impression on the chefs in this place. They might get a bit jealous."

Sam scoffed, and Dean smacked him in the back of the head. Glaring at his brother, Sam followed him through the door, and they were shown to their table. The restaurant was cold, and neither Winchester removed their jacket, instead, holding them closer to their bodies. Their dates were already waiting for them. Dean flashed his best 'I'm not looking to get laid tonight-honest' smile and Sam worked up a grin. The girls smiled in response and the brothers sat down.

They made small talk, with comfortable silences in between. The girls ordered and Dean ordered for himself and Sam. Once the waiter had left, Sam leaned over and whispered to Dean.

"Why did you order for me?"

"Because I know what you like. I'm the chef."

"You can't even cook _eggs_. Dad couldn't cook really well and even he could cook eggs."

"I had a choice. The eggs or my car. I made that choice, and I stand by it."

"Well, don't order for me. I can talk for myself."

Dean was about to reply, when they were suddenly aware that they weren't alone. Both turned their heads and looked at their dates. They cleared their throats and Sam mumbled an apology.

Their dates smiled, and changed topic to their respective jobs. Dean sighed inwardly. This was where it got a bit tricky. What should he be this time? Pilot? Doctor? Sex Therapist? He decided on pilot. His date then looked him in the eye and asked what he did.

"I'm a test pilot. Got to take the new jet out for a spin last week. Nothing like it, I tell ya. Listen, if this works out, maybe you could come up with me sometime."

Her pale face lit up. "I'd love that! But, I'm not much of a flyer. Last time I was on a plane, things didn't go too well. It was the worst experience of my life."

"Well, don't worry. When you're with me, you won't get scared, I guarantee it." He gave her a big smile and a wink.

Sam's date was a little more shy, and hadn't said anything to him. Dean's date took the initiative, and turned to him.

"And what do you do?"

"Sam's a plumber, actually. He gets all the worst jobs, but, ya know, he loves it!" He slung an arm around his brother's shoulders, already feeling how stiff with annoyance he was.

"Dean?" Sam said through clenched teeth.

"Yea, Sam?"

"Could I talk to you in private for a second?"

"I don't think so Sammy. It would be rude to abandon these ladies, even for a second," he said through his smile.

Since he couldn't beat the pulp out of Dean, or at least try to, like he wanted, Sam stomped on his brother's foot as hard as he possibly could.

Dean sucked in a breath and stomped on the foot on top of his own. Sam let out a grunt, and wriggled his foot out from between Dean's.

He glared daggers at Dean, then turned back to his date with an apologetic smile.

"How did you guys get here?"

Sam's date answered. "We took the bus. I can't drive anymore. I won't. I went in the ditch last winter, and haven't been able to be in a car since."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. " Sam felt sorry for the girl and reached over to take her hand. It was freezing, but he knew his hand wasn't much warmer. The whole place was chilly. She smiled at the gesture.

Their food arrived. Dean and Sam shoveled it in, and their dates mostly picked at the food on the plates. Dean looked up from his and pointed to his date's plate.

"You gonna eat those potatoes?"

"No. I'm not really hungry. Do you want them?"

"Well, I didn't wanna be presumptuous, but since you ask…yea, I'll take 'em."

He scooped her mashed potatoes off her plate, and noticed Sam was doing the same with his date's potatoes.

"_Man, these girls don't eat_," he thought. Not good. Who would he cook for? Sam didn't appreciate his culinary talents obviously. Not that they'd be in town much longer, but still. Cooking for someone else would have been nice. And it would have given him an excuse to wear that awesome apron.

The guys finished and the girls proclaimed that they were done. They announced they needed to use the restroom, and got up as one.

When they were gone, Dean leaned back.

"Why is it girls always go the bathroom together?" he asked.

"I don't know. They seem nice, but there's something off about them," Sam said, although he wasn't sure what it was.

"Tell me about it. The brunette seems interested in _you_. What's up with that?"

"Oh, what? I suppose they're both supposed to be interested in you? Is that it?"

"Well, ya, I am the World's Hottest Chef after all." Sam groaned at the reference to the apron.

"Don't get me started on the apron, please."

"Don't knock the apron, Sammy."

They waited, and waited, and waited.

Dean called over their waiter.

"Those girls we were with earlier? The brunette and the blonde? Did you see them leave?" He couldn't believe they'd been ditched.

The waiter shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but you were never with anyone. I showed you to an empty table. There wasn't anyone else here." He shrugged his shoulders at them, and went to get their bill.

The brothers looked at one another, realizing their situation.

"Ghosts," they said simultaneously.

After paying, they left, and headed out to the car.

"I should have known. They were pale, they were cold, they made the whole place freeze." Dean was incredulous that they hadn't been at least suspicious.

They climbed in the Impala, and something clicked in Sam's head.

"And those things they talked about. I bet the blonde died in a plane crash, and the brunette died when her car went in a ditch. I'll look into it later, and we can confirm it."

"And I was hoping she'd put out too," Dean mourned the loss. "That would've been awkward." He sighed and started the car, heading back to their motel. Maybe guys like them weren't meant to casually date. Supernatural entities were drawn to them like moths to a flame.

**A/N: Well, hope y'all liked it! R&R if the feeling takes you. **


	3. missing keys

**A/N: Ok, next up is ****PassionsInsanity****'s idea about lost car keys. Since I've ****already got a poll**** up, I'll just ask this and you can post answers in your review. Do y'all like Sam or Dean better? I know, I know, they both rock, but you have to have a favorite! Enjoy!**

**Missing keys**

Dean Winchester rolled over, still half asleep. The sunlight filtered in through the cheap blinds in the room they were staying in, telling him it was time to get up. He wished he could just shut the damn sun off sometimes. He opened one eye, and his hand moved beneath the pillow. He felt the gun resting there, and relaxed.

His eye roved around the room; the piles of dirty clothes, his kick ass apron spread across the table; everything was where it should be. Even Sam was where he was supposed to be, still sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room. Dean moved his hand over to the bedside table. The large hunting knife he had put there the previous night was still there. His hand moved over the table, and a feeling of panic began to rise inside him.

His keys. Where were his keys? He'd put them on the table before going to bed last night. He was sure of it. He could picture it vividly in his mind.

He jumped out of bed, and eyed the table again, in case his hand had missed the keys. They weren't there. He turned the blankets down on the bed, looking for anything metal. Nothing. He even lifted up the mattress. Not there either.

Biting his lip to keep the curses from spilling out and waking Sam, he moved to the dresser and the TV. He was positive he hadn't left them there, but it never hurt to check. From there, he went to his pile of dirty clothes and turned out the pockets in his jeans. Nope.

Forgetting he wasn't yet dressed, he trotted outside in his bare feet. He confirmed that he hadn't left the keys in the ignition the previous night, and retraced his steps back to the door to the room. No sign of the keys. Suddenly, he became aware of the morning chill on his body. He probably should have bothered to throw some clothes on before heading outdoors.

He went back into the room, and got dressed, scanning the carpet for the keys. His eyes went from the carpet to Sam, who was still sleeping soundly.

"Sorry, Sammy," he said quietly before picking up the side of the mattress his brother was sleeping on and tipping it over. Sam tumbled unceremoniously to the floor, tangled up in sheets and blankets, shock written on his face.

"Dean?! What the hell?!"

"Missing the car keys, Sam. Sorry to wake you, but it's an emergency."

"Don't you have a spare or something?"

Dean looked offended. "Of course not. Anything other than the original is insulting to my baby. She only deserves the best, and that includes her keys."

"Whatever. You could have just shaken my shoulder or something to wake me up."

"No, I couldn't have. This was more fun. Now get dressed."

Sam grumbled under his breath, and got dressed. They needed to hit a Laundromat soon. He was stuck wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They weren't totally clean, but at least they weren't covered in dried mud and whatever else like his other clothes.

He looked on in amusement at Dean running back and forth, into the bathroom and out again, like a chicken with its head cut off.

"Where could they be, where could they be?" he asked frantically.

"Dean, stop and calm down before you have a heart attack. We know they're in here somewhere."

Dean stopped in mid step and took a deep breath. Then he crossed over to the wall and banged his forehead against it.

"We can't go anywhere until we find those keys. You could help, ya know."

"Sure, sure." Sam moved to look under the beds, and coming up empty handed, stood up again and moved onto the bedside table drawer. The Bible and a telephone book were in there; nothing more.

"Where else haven't you looked?" Sam asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes widened and he pulled out the keys.

As he heard the familiar jingle, Dean removed his head from the wall, and snatched the keys from Sam.

"Thank God. Where were they?"

"In my pocket."

Dean's face took on a look of rage.

"Why were they in your pocket?"

"I'm not sure exactly."

"You'd better think fast, Sammy."

Sam thought about last night.

"You gave them to me, remember?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because we went to that bar to play pool, and you had one too many beers. You gave them to me so I could drive back to the room."

"What? Really?"

"Yep. I remember it very clearly. That's exactly what happened."

"Well, as long as I gave 'em to you, I guess I won't hurt you."

"Gee thanks. Let's pack so we can get out of here."

"Fine by me." Dean packed his bag with his clothes, apron, and weapons, and when Sam was finished packing, the two left for the car.

**A/N: So, was it ok? Next up, we'll take a trip to the grocery store with our two favorite brothers. Until then, have a good one!**


	4. grocery shopping with the Winchesters

**A/N: Ok, I'm bound and determined not to let my sagging number of hits and reviews get me down! I love writing these and I still have quite a few suggestions to go! This installment is from ****sammygirl1963****, who wanted a trip to the grocery store. Sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted. Thanks also to Windyfontaine for the thoughts. Enjoy!**

**Grocery shopping with the Winchesters**

"How long are we going to be here?" Sam asked as he threw his bag on the hotel bed. 

"Long enough for you to be able to put your clothes in the dresser," Dean replied, claiming 2 drawers for himself as he unpacked.

"Well, if we're going to be here that long, can we take a trip to the grocery store, and pick up some stuff? I mean, nothing against eating out, but just for a change, ya know?"

Dean thought for a minute as he folded his apron and placed it in the drawer. "Sure, we could do that, although, it's about a million degrees outside, and I really don't wanna go out again so soon."

"Please?" Sam pleaded.

"Fine." Dean relented.

"Why do you still have that stupid apron Dean? There's nowhere for you to cook, and you're a fire hazard when you're in front of a stove anyway!" 

"That was a fluke. My confidence in my cooking has returned. Besides, the only reason that little incident happened before was because it rained. The apron stays."

Sam dismissed the conversation with a wave of his hand, and the two headed out to the Impala. 

They arrived at the only grocery store in town, and entered into air-conditioned bliss.

"Now _this_ is more like it!" Dean said, fanning out his shirt, which was beginning to stick to him. Despite being embarrassed by his brother's behavior, Sam followed suit. It did feel great to be out of the heat. 

Dean grabbed a cart and leaned on it as they headed through the aisles. He bypassed the produce, but Sam picked an apple and an orange for himself, thinking that he could put them in the mini-fridge in their room. He pulled Dean away from the snack cakes that sat in a stand in the center of the aisle, marveling how they could put junk food right next to the fruits and vegetables.

"No junk food, Dean. We're not getting anything we can eat out of a vending machine."

Dean's face fell, and he mumbled something about sugar. 

Sam took over control of the cart, ignoring Dean's protests, and began perusing the aisles, one by one, picking up some wheat crackers, and some bread and sliced meat for sandwiches, mentally keeping track of the amount of space in the mini-fridge.

"Come on, Sammy! You're not getting anything fun! How about some cookies, at least?"

Sam complied by putting a box of sugar-free chocolate chip cookies in the cart.

"Oh, no, not sugar-free!"

"Yes, sugar-free. It's better for us. We eat crap most of the time when we're on the road."

Dean narrowed his eyes, and then took off. Sam sighed. His brother was worse than a little kid. He briefly entertained the idea of getting some kind of harness and leash for Dean, chuckling at the mental image it created. 

Dean came back then, and dumped a sack of sugar in the cart.

"Get that out of there!"

"Not until we can get some _real_ cookies. If not, then I'm getting this sugar and just dunking the cookies in it."

They locked eyes for a second, each challenging the other. Sam gave in first, and replaced the sugar-free cookies.

Dean smiled victoriously. "I knew you'd see it my way."

"I just didn't want you throwing a tantrum in the middle of the grocery store, like you did when we were kids."

"Me! That was you! You threw a fit every time Dad let me get Cocoa Puffs when you wanted Fruit Loops!"

"I never wanted Fruit Loops. I liked Trix."

"You liked Fruit Loops. You liked Toucan Sam, cause you said you both had the same name."

"I liked the Trix Rabbit."

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Toucan Sam all the way."

"Whatever." Sam shoved the sack of sugar in Dean's arms so he could put it back. He was starting to think he should have just gone by himself. He picked up a carton of milk, and when he passed the cereal aisle, he put a box in the cart. 

Dean came back and pointed at the box triumphantly. "Ha! Fruit Loops. I knew it!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. I don't like Trix."

Dean laughed, and threw a box of Cocoa Puffs in the cart. 

"We only need one box," Sam pointed out, but didn't pursue the point so they wouldn't have another stupid cereal argument. 

The last aisle they passed before check out was the frozen section. Despite the air conditioning, both were still hot and sticky from the outside. They stared at the freezers, envious of the cold food inside.

Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He opened one of the doors, and stood in front of it, letting the cold air blast his body, and pretending like he was looking for something in particular. He turned to look at Sam, who was looking at him and shaking his head.

"Come on, you know you want to Sam."

After a few minutes, Sam gave into the temptation and followed Dean's example.

"I feel stupid."

"Don't. Just enjoy."

"We really should move though. Someone else might need to get in here."

"Yea, yea, hang on." They enjoyed the cold air for a few more moments, and then reluctantly moved away, closing the doors. 

Their items were rung up, and Sam paid with one of the many credit cards he kept in his wallet. Then they carried their bags out to the Impala. 

Sam imagined that they were normal for a few minutes, that they would be going to an apartment or house with their groceries, instead of a hotel room. That they'd put them away and Dean would put on that ridiculous apron and cook something, hopefully not burning the place to the ground in the process. 

They loaded them up and Sam was hit with a dose of reality when they pulled up in front of the hotel.

"All right. What do you say we get this stuff put away, make some sandwiches, and see what's on TV?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yea, that sounds good. And Dean?"

"Yea."

"Next time I'm going by myself."

"Your call. Just know you're walking."

Sam nodded, grabbed a bag out of the backseat, and carried it to their room. 

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Give me feedback; I need to know how I'm doing with these! Next up: doing laundry, past and present!**


	5. the laundry lesson

**A/N: Hello everyone! This next bit is part one of a two parter dealing with laundry. It's a past segment suggested by ****HuntersrockImpalasroll. Enjoy!!**

**The Laundry Lesson**

Dean Winchester, age 12, awoke from a light sleep. He rolled over in the hotel bed to check on Sammy. He was still asleep, snoring lightly. Their father had left last night with the usual promise to be back as soon as he possibly could. This left Dean in charge. As much as he missed him, he loved being in charge.

He got up, grabbed some change off the nightstand, and strode into the hallway to get some breakfast out of the vending machine. When he returned, Sammy was sitting on the edge of the bed, making a pouty face.

"Where were you?"

"Getting breakfast." He tossed a Twinkie into Sammy's lap, and gazed around the room. There were dirty clothes everywhere.

"You want me to teach you something new today?" He asked his brother.

Sammy nodded and said around a mouthful of Twinkie, "Yea! Like what Dean-bean?"

"Laundry. It's about time you learned how. It'll be one more chore I can make you do instead of me." He grinned, proud of his ability to delegate chores. Then he frowned. "Don't call me that or I'll whomp you."

"Dad calls you that."

"Dad's bigger than me. Plus, he's Dad. He can call me what he wants. You are not bigger than me, and you're not Dad. You call me Dean or Your Majesty."

He stepped out the back door to the outside, and looked. There it was. The Laundromat, right across the street from the hotel. He ducked back in, stuffed a cupcake in his mouth, and got dressed, grabbing enough change for the washer and dryer, plus some extra.

"Sammy, get dressed. Let's get started." After his brother was dressed, Dean set him to work dividing all the laundry into two piles, one for each of them to carry.

"Mine's a lot bigger than yours," Sammy commented thoughtfully.

"No, it isn't. It just seems bigger cause you're smaller." Sammy seemed satisfied with this answer, and they picked up their respective piles, Dean making sure the hotel key was in his pocket before shutting the door behind them.

Dean stopped Sammy at the crosswalk as he was about to step off the curb.

"You wanna become roadkill?!"

"Sorry, I thought it was ok to cross." He couldn't see very well over the clothes pile he was carrying. Dean sighed and transferred some of the clothing over to his pile. He pushed the button for the crossing and they waited until it was safe to go; Sammy ahead of Dean.

They entered the Laundromat which was empty. Dean dumped his clothes into a cart, and Sammy followed suit. Dean pulled it along behind them until they were standing in front of the vending machine that held all kinds of detergents.

"Ok, Sammy, here's some change. We get that one; in the blue box." He pointed it out and watched as Sammy carefully counted out the change and pushed the appropriate button. He smiled as the box tumbled into the bottom of the machine and he reached down and grabbed it, handing it to Dean.

"Nope. This is all you. Come on, you pick the washing machine." Sammy chose one and they pulled the laundry cart over to it.

"Ok, now, put the clothes in." He supervised while Sammy loaded the washer. "Now, you measure out the soap." He showed Sammy how to measure the correct amount, and watched as his little brother poured it in the machine.

"Good. Now, we put it on the correct cycle. The knob has to be facing like this." He made the necessary adjustments, put some more change in it, and started the washer.

"Now, we wait." He went over to a bench and opened a magazine. Sammy took the chance to explore the Laundromat. Not that there was much to see, but to a little boy it was an interesting place, with no adult supervision.

After spending some time poking his head into various dryers and crashing laundry carts into each other, Sammy went to check on their load. He lifted the top of the washer lid and stood on tiptoe to peer inside. It didn't look like there was much soap in there at all. Maybe Dean had measured wrong. He thought about telling him.

He looked over and saw that his brother had fallen asleep, the magazine over his face. He didn't want to wake Dean up. He walked back to the machine and dumped in more of the soap. There, that looked better. Much soapier, like in the bathtub. Satisfied, he sat next to Dean on the bench, and waited.

When the washer stopped, Sammy shook Dean awake.

"Dean-bean, it's done."

Dean swiped at Sammy's hand on his shoulder. "Don't call me that! Ok, next we have put it all in a dryer." He went to their washer, Sammy behind him. He opened the lid, and pulled out one of his shirts, which was covered in soap.

"Hey, this didn't get rinsed." He pulled out another item, then another. "None of it did!" He reached for the box of soap, and found it almost empty.

"Sammy?"

Sammy looked away.

"Did you add more soap?"

"Yea," Sammy mumbled.

Dean sucked in a breath to keep from beating Sammy with the wet clothes in his hands.

"Why did you do that? I showed you how to measure!"

"It just didn't look right."

"I know what I'm doing. You don't. Now we have to do another cycle to get these rinsed. You're lucky I brought a lot of change." He put in more change and restarted the washer, determined to stay awake this time in case Sammy got into more trouble.

**A/N: Hope you liked that one. I personally like it all right. I like writing about past stuff just cause you can play with it a bit more. Next up will be laundry time in the present!**


	6. Laundry day

**A/N: I'm back!! It's way late here, but I'm not too awful tired so I thought I'd post. This bit was suggested by Windyfontaine and is a look at the boys doing laundry in the present. If I haven't done your suggestion yet, I apologize. I'm going in order from when they were suggested, so I will get to all of them, I promise! I enjoy writing these, so I'm going to keep going with them. And always need more suggestions! Enjoy!!**

**Laundry day!**

Sam woke up one morning to the sound of Dean humming. He opened his eyes and found him sorting through their dirty clothing.

He yawned and stretched. "Is it laundry day again?"

"Yep." Dean lovingly placed his apron on top of the clothes pile.

"You're washing that thing?"

"Yea, why not?"

"You've only worn it once."

"So? It doesn't deserve to be clean?"

Sam decided to change the subject, not wanting to discuss the apron all day. "I'm starving."

"Gotcha covered." Dean tossed a Twinkie at his head, and it hit Sam in the eye.

"Hey!" He unwrapped it and ate the sponge cake, and, more importantly, the cream inside. That had been his favorite part since he was a little kid.

"Good?"

"Yea, I love these things, despite the fact that they have no nutritional value whatsoever. Thanks Dean-bean." He smirked as the apron was thrown in his direction. It fluttered threw the air and landed over Sam's head, covering him like a sheet.

"Very mature Dean," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the apron. He pulled it off his head and tossed it, aiming for the clothes pile. It missed.

"Don't call me Dean-bean! You're never too old to get your ass kicked." He pointed at his brother, a threatening look on his face as he picked up the apron, holding it against him.

Sam chuckled. "Yea, I can't really take you seriously with you hugging that stupid apron like that."

"Leave the apron out of this. Now, get dressed. We gotta get this done so we can hit the road."

Sam got ready to go, and carried the pile of clothes to the car while Dean followed with the keys and change for the Laundromat.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to do laundry?" Dean asked him in the car.

"I do, actually. I remember sticking my head in all the dryers, looking for tunnels to other worlds."

"I don't remember you doing that. I _do _remember you putting in too much soap. Anymore, and it would have been all over the place."

"You don't remember because you fell asleep when you should have been watching me."

"You were 8! I thought you could go 5 minutes without making a mess! I never made that mistake again."

"You made it about a million more times," Sam argued.

Further bickering was halted by their arrival at the Laundromat. Dean got the detergent, leaving Sam to load the washer with the pile he'd carried in. Dean added the soap; he hadn't trusted Sam to do it since that first time. Sam started to put the change in when Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"What?"

"Are you wearing dirty clothes?"

"Yea, I didn't have anything clean."

"Me either. It's empty here except for us."

Sam looked confused, so Dean illustrated by pulling off his shirt and jeans and adding them to the washer.

"I'm not spending the next couple of hours in my boxers and socks Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a priss. Get naked." He chuckled.

Sam sighed, but complied, adding his own clothes to their load. He put the change in, and closed the lid as the washer began to fill.

They sat side by side on the bench.

"Still wanna look in those dryers, Sammy?" Dean said with a grin.

"Haha."

"Seriously, though, I'm bored."

"So? Why don't you go to sleep? You're good at that."

"No way! If I did, you'd probably burn the place down or blow something up."

Sam got an idea then, and he turned to Dean. "Ya know, I did look in dryers all those years ago, but I also did something else."

"Yea, you practically ruined my clothes too."

"Not that. I crashed the laundry carts into each other. If you're bored, we could do that."

Dean smiled at that. "Not very mature there Sam."

"Well, like you said, no one else is here."

"You're on."

They stood at opposite ends of the Laundromat, each with a laundry cart.

"Ok, on the count of three," Sam said. "One…two…three!" They pushed their carts toward one another, and Dean gave a cheer as they collided, banging together with a louder noise than Sam had anticipated.

"Again!" Dean retrieved his cart, shoving Sam's back in his direction. They crashed them several more times, and were gearing up for a fourth time, when Sam realized something.

"Dean?"

"Yea?"

"We're in front of the Laundromat."

"So?"

"We're standing in front of a huge window, in our underwear, crashing laundry carts together."

"I'm startin' to follow you."

"Good, cause people have been passing by and staring at us."

"Really?"

"Yea."

"Any hot chicks?"

"Not unless you're interested in little old ladies."

Dean shook his head. "Not especially."

"Ok. I would suggest that we go back to the bench, cause it's further away from the window."

"Sounds like a plan." They moved backwards to the bench, sat down, and waited quietly until the washer had finished its cycle. After which, they transported the wet clothes to the dryer, and waited for it to finish.

"I'm still bored," Dean said.

"Do you ever not complain?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Nope."

"Why don't you go dance in front of the window? That'll keep everyone entertained," Sam suggested.

"Ok."

"Dean, I didn't mean…"

"I know. I wouldn't. Cop might see, get jealous of me, and arrest me for being so good looking."

Sam scoffed. "Among other things."

They spent the remainder of the time leafing through magazines, and although he'd said he wouldn't, Dean did doze off. Sam woke him up when the dryer was through, and they pulled their warm clothing from the machine, getting dressed, and hauling their clean clothes out to the car.

"Another laundry day survived," Sam commented as they drove back to the hotel.

"Yep. Good job not making a mess."

"Gee. Thanks," Sam said dryly, ducking as Dean reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. "Next time, though, I'm leaving my clothes on. I don't care if they're dirty or not."

**A/N: Ok, there you have it! Next up will be Sam and Dean's stalker. Thanks for reading!!**


	7. supernatural stalker

**A/N: I apologize for lack of updates. I do love writing these, really I do, but response hasn't been that good, so maybe that's the reason. Thanks to those who have read and reviewed and kept me going. This was requested by sticky. On with the stalking! Enjoy!!**

**Invisible stalkers**

Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot in the hotel lot and killed the engine. He turned to his younger brother, who was sound asleep in the seat next to him. He shook him roughly. Sam snorted and opened his eyes.

"Where are we?"

"We are in Cleveland. And I have a surprise. We're staying for a week!"

"Really? Is there something going on?" Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned.

"Nope. Just thought I'd give us a bit of a break. We're gonna stay here, and just….hang out."

Sam cracked a grin. "Thanks Dean."

"Hey, just don't say I never gave you anything."

They got out of the car and the second Dean shut the car door, he felt eyes on him. And not just one pair.

"You feel that?" he asked Sam.

"We're being watched," Sam replied, indicating that he did indeed feel it.

Dean looked out into the twilight surrounding them, but didn't see anyone. He shrugged off the feeling and grabbed their belongings from the backseat, tossing Sam's bag to him.

They got a room, and settled in, both still feeling the intense look of unseen eyes. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Sam dug into his bag for the EMF meter, and did a thorough inspection of 

their room, and outside around the car. When he returned, Dean was sprawled across one of the beds, his arms behind his head, the apron covering him like a blanket. He looked at Sam as he shut the door behind him.

"Find anything?"

"Nothing. Whatever this feeling is, the cause isn't anything supernatural. I didn't get any readings that were out of the ordinary." He replaced the meter, and crashed on the other bed for a quick nap.

When he woke up, Dean was gone and so was the apron. Sam heaved a sigh, and climbed from the bed, grabbing the spare room key and moving out into the hallway. Once there, a voice floated down the hallway that sounded familiar. Sam sighed again, and followed the voice to the hotel bar.

He walked through the open door and clapped a hand to his forehead as he saw what was going on. His brother was up on stage, singing 'Hot Blooded' by Foreigner loudly and slightly off key, a beer in one hand, the mic in the other. And, as icing on the embarrassment cake, he was wearing the apron.

Sam ducked his head and took a seat in the back of the bar, ordering his own beer, and still not able to shake the feeling that the watching eyes had followed him into the bar. After Dean's song had finished and he did an encore, he caught Sam's eye and joined him at the table.

"If anyone would have asked, I would have disowned you," Sam informed him.

"What? I was a hit!"

Sam changed the subject. "I still can't shake the feeling we're being watched. I felt it outside in the parking lot, in the room, and now in here. But it can't be a ghost or something would have registered on the EMF."

"I'm with ya there; I feel it too, but again you're right. It can't be anything supernatural. Could we have possibly acquired a _living_ stalker?"

Sam considered the possibility, but ultimately dismissed it. "No, because we wouldn't have felt it right after stepping out of the car. No stalker works that fast."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Maybe we're just on edge. Have another beer and relax." He ordered them another round, and Sam found himself attempting to loosen up.

Once they were back in their room, however, the feeling came back in full force, and Sam paced the room, frustrated and growing increasingly uneasy. He turned on Dean, who was again sprawled on the bed, watching some movie on TV.

"Doesn't this make you feel weird, Dean? How can you just pretend like those eyes aren't there, watching us?"

"Easy. Just block it out of your mind. Watch this movie with me and chill out."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't. This is just really bothering me."

"Suit yourself." He focused on the TV again, leaving Sam still agitated and pacing. Finally, Sam sat on his bed and pulled up his laptop. He began looking for possible reasons for what was going on. He came up with nothing.

He noticed his brother sitting up in bed, a wary expression on his face.

"Dean?"

"You're right, Sammy. I tried to ignore it, but it's not going anywhere. Did you find anything on the internet?"

"Nope. I have no idea what this could be, besides us going insane."

Dean nodded his head slowly. "Insanity. I never thought of that before."

"No! We're not crazy! Something's going on here."

Dean thought about it while causally flipping through the channels. An old horror classic caught his eye. "What about the invisible man?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked.

"The invisible man. No one could see him. And he wasn't dead, so nothing odd would register on an EMF."

Sam pondered this for a moment. "How do we know if that's what it is?"

Dean stood up, and became still for a moment. "The feeling is strongest over here." He walked over to a corner of the room, and slowly untied his apron. He threw it in the air, and watched it flutter and stop halfway down to the ground, covering the forms of two small human shapes, the two heads distinctive against the apron material.

The brothers stood there, eyes wide, and then Dean swiftly tugged his apron off the forms, moving backward until his legs hit the bed.

"Sam?"

Sam gulped. "Yea?"

"Get your bag. We're gettin' the hell outta here!"

"No complaints here." Sam watched as Dean grabbed a sheet from the bed and threw it over the invisible shapes in the corner, to make sure they weren't followed. Then they picked up their bags, and still walking backwards, made their way to the door.

Once Dean's hand found the door knob, and they were outside in the night air, they turned as one, and ran as fast as they could for the car, shoving their bags in the backseat, and getting in. Dean started the car, and they peeled out of the parking lot, speeding to get to the highway in order to put as much distance between them and the hotel as they possibly could.

**A/N: Hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think and if you have an idea for a one-shot! Next up: hiccups!! **


	8. hiccups

**A/N: Hi all!! I thought it was time for another one!! This segment was suggested by ****Undomiel2007****. Enjoy!!**

**Hiccups**

Dean Winchester awoke suddenly. It was late morning, and he had been enjoying a comfortable, if light, sleep, his arms holding his apron tight like a teddy bear.

What was it that had woken him up? Demon? No. Ghost? No. Bad dream? No. Dean Winchester had the hiccups.

He hated hiccups. They were annoying as hell. He noted that his brother was already awake, and judging from the sound of water in the room next to his bed, he was in the shower.

Dean sat on the bed, hiccupping every so often until Sam came out of the bathroom. He heard his brother hiccup and stifled a snicker.

"Oh, man, this is too good."

"You'd better help me get rid of these," Dean responded, a hiccup cutting into every other word or so.

"Relax. I'm chock full of hiccup cures. We'll get rid of them in no time."

"Great."

"Ok, swallow 3 times in a row, then take a deep breath."

Dean did just that, and let out another hiccup.

"Next."

"Ok, how about this one?" He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a cup of water.

"Drink this whole thing, taking quick sips Don't move the glass away from your mouth, just keep swallowing the water."

Dean shook his head in disbelief, but took the glass and drank it as Sam had instructed. When it was empty, he took several deep breaths, and hiccupped. He glared at Sam.

"What? It should've worked. All right, all right, let's see…I've got it!" He disappeared out the back door of their room, and Dean glanced out the window, watching as Sam went into the supermarket across the street. He came out after a few minutes with a small sack. He came back into the room, pulled a jar out of the sack and offered it to Dean.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with peanut butter?"

Sam fetched a spoon that Dean had swiped from a diner the previous night. He scooped up a spoonful of peanut butter and held it out to Dean.

"You swallow it."

"What? Without chewing?"

"Yea, that's what my source says. Just be careful."

Dean paused for a moment, then put the spoon in his mouth. Predictably, he began to choke after swallowing the spoonful of peanut butter, still hiccupping. Sam pounded him on the back and brought him another glass of water. Dean collapsed on the bed, coughing and spluttering.

"I hate you so much right now Sam," he said, wiping the water from his face with his apron.

"I have a couple more ideas."

"Do I really wanna know?"

"Do you want to stop hiccupping?"

"Yes, but I don't wanna kill myself either."

Sam grabbed the spoon off the apron where it had fallen and rinsed it off in the bathroom. He pulled something else out of the bag, and poured a spoonful of it, his back to Dean. He offered the spoon to Dean.

"Ok, just swallow this right after a hiccup."

Dean looked quizzically at it, and after his next hiccup, put the spoon back into his mouth. He didn't swallow however, because he immediately spit the contents of the spoon into Sam's face.

"Vinegar, Sam? You could've warned me!"

"If I'd warned you, then you never would've drunk it! And did you really have to spit it in my face?! Nasty!" he reached for Dean's apron to wipe off the vinegar, but Dean grabbed it away.

"No. Only I get to use it."

"Fine." Sam stomped off to the bathroom, and used one of the many towels there instead.

When he came back, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Ok, I have one more idea."

"Doesn't involve me swallowing anything, does it?"

"Nope. All you have to do is think about cows. Think about them doing anything."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Just think about cows."

"That's crazy."

"I know, but if it works…"

"Fine." Dean closed his eyes and thought about cows doing the limbo.

"How low can you go, how low can you go?" chanted the cows. Dean began nodding his head to the beat of the cows' chant, a smile on his face.

After a few minutes of this, he opened his eyes. His hiccups were gone, and Sam was smirking at him.

"I told you. Cows work every time."

**A/N: In case you were wondering, I got all of these from a website of hiccup cures. Some very strange ones on there. Hope you liked it!! Next up, Sam and Dean go to the dentist!**


	9. in the dentist's chair

**A/N: Well, it's been forever, and I apologize. I'm still reeling from the finale last week though. Why must they insist on torturing us with these cliffhangers?! Anywho, here's another shot of the mundane, idea suggested by ****Enkidu07****. Hope you like it. I decided to go with Weechesters for this one. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 9: In the dentist's chair**

Sammy and Dean Winchester sat in the backseat of the car as their father drove.

"We're really going to Disnayland?" five year old Sammy asked excitedly.

"That's right Sammy. Just you two and your dad, having a good time for once."

Sammy beamed. He was so happy that they were finally spending fun time with their dad. It was long overdue.

John glanced at his boys in the rearview mirror. Sammy looked so happy. Dean, on the other hand…

"Something wrong Dean-bean?"

"Disneyland? That's pretty lame Dad. Where are we really going?"

"Like I told Sammy, we're heading out to California. You boys can get your photo taken with Mickey Mouse, and I'll even wear those ridiculous mouse ears."

He felt bad about lying to them, but if they knew where they were really heading, he never would've gotten them in the car. Dean didn't believe him though. At nine years, his oldest was smarter than most kids his age. He could tell when his father was lying.

John heaved a sigh, and made a left turn. They drove down a street and into a parking lot, where Sammy's smile disappeared.

"This isn't Disneyland! Where are we?" He looked up at the sign on the building and tried his hardest to sound out the words he saw written there. He was past the first two letters when Dean broke in.

"We're at the dentist Sammy. We're getting our teeth cleaned."

Sammy's eyes grew wide, and he began to protest, tears running down his face.

"No, no, I don't want to!" Dean rolled his eyes and got out of the car, knowing that arguing and throwing a fit wasn't going to make any difference. Sammy, on the other hand, refused to budge.

John came around to Sammy's side of the car, opened the door, and picked his son up, carrying the crying child into the office, comforting him and patting him on the back. Dean followed behind, a scowl etched on his face.

John checked in with the receptionist, and they sat down in chairs, Sammy in his father's lap, still sobbing.

"It'll be ok Sammy. I'm getting my teeth cleaned too, just like you guys."

Sammy turned his head to look at his father. "You are?"

"Sure am. And Dean and I will go first, so you can see there's nothing to be scared of."

Sammy wiped his tears away and nodded his head. "Ok, if you and Dean can do it, so can I."

John ruffled Sammy's hair. "Attaboy."

The hygienist called them, and John looked at Dean. "You wanna go first, or should I?"

"I'll go. I wanna get it over with. Come on, Sammy. You can watch." He took his little brother's hand and they followed the woman into a room. Dean climbed in the chair.

"Oh, hang on, I forgot something. I'll be right back." The hygienist left and Dean looked over at Sammy, who was eyeing all the dental instruments nervously.

"It's fine Sammy. If you want, you can close your eyes when you're up here, so you can't see what they're doing." He paused for a moment, and the evil big brother side of him came out. "Especially when they're using that on you." He pointed at a particularly wicked looking instrument. "I mean, you don't wanna see that thing coming down at your mouth, believe me."

"Does it hurt?" Sammy looked panicked.

"Well, of course it does. Look at it."

The color left Sammy's face and he rushed out of the room back to their father.

Dean chuckled. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself. The hygienist returned and Dean prepared himself. He wasn't scared like Sammy. He just didn't like the dentist.

Dean emerged from the room and went back to the waiting room, the scowl still on his face.

"Well, let me see," John prompted. Dean sighed and flashed his teeth.

"They look good! All right, I guess I'm next. Dean-bean, keep an eye on your brother. I think he's had his fill of watching."

"Don't I always?" Dean said as he watched his father disappear into the room with the hygienist.

He looked over at Sammy, who looked terrified. Then a metaphorical light bulb appeared above his head. He looked around the waiting room. It was devoid of other people, and the receptionist was painting her nails and not paying any attention to them.

"Come on Sammy."

"Where are we going?" Sammy asked as he followed Dean into the room next to the one John was in.

"Quiet! I'm gonna show you something." He looked around the room until he found what he was looking for. It was perfect. It was all set up. They must have been expecting another patient. Dean put the mask over Sammy's nose and mouth. "Hold that on there."

Sammy obeyed and Dean turned the nitrous oxide machine on.

"Dean?" Sammy sounded scared.

"Relax, it'll make you feel better; trust me. Breathe deep now." He smirked as Sammy did as he was told, and began to visibly relax, his shoulders becoming less tense. Dean heard the hygienist finishing up with John in the other room. He pulled the mask from Sammy's hands and shut the machine off.

Sammy had a big smile on his face. "Why'd you do that? I want it back?" He reached for the mask, missing it by a mile.

"Come on, Dad's coming." He dragged his little brother back to the waiting room and plopped him in a chair, barely having enough time to sit down himself and look innocent before John reappeared.

Dean looked at his father. "Well, let me see," he said, copying his father's earlier words. John showed his teeth for his son's inspection. Dean nodded approvingly. "She's good," he said of the hygienist, who had come to collect Sammy.

Much to John's surprise, Sammy followed her without any prompting. His surprise turned to suspicion however, as he noticed Sammy walking funny. He turned to his first-born.

"Dean?"

John meant business. Dean looked down. "Yes sir?"

"Why does Sammy look so loopy, like his head is in the clouds?"

Dean thought quickly. If John found out he'd drugged Sammy, he'd never be out of trouble.

"I don't know. We were just sitting here. Maybe he dozed off or something." He shrugged for emphasis.

John sighed. "Ok."

When Sammy came out, he showed his father and brother his teeth without being asked. John smiled at him. "They look great Sammy. I'm proud of you." He led his sons out of the office.

"Why don't we go ruin our clean teeth with some ice cream?" He received an exuberant response from both boys. They got in the car and headed for the ice cream parlor.

**A/N: So, what'd ya think? Thanks for reading everyone!! See ya next time!**


	10. a trip to hell, aka the mall

**A/N: Ok, slight change of plans. I got a request for clothes shopping from Music Lover 1214, so I'm doing that one, and if I get any more requests, I'll do those first. So, if there's anything you want to see, let me know. Enjoy!!**

**A trip to hell, aka the mall**

"Wake up Dean!" Sam called in his brother's ear. He received a groan in answer and Dean rolled over.

"Don't make me break out the ice bucket." No answer. Sam shook his head. Dean had asked for it.

He crossed over to the table and picked up their ice bucket. He strode out in the hall, filled it up, and returned to their room with it. He stood over his brother and unceremoniously dumped the contents all over the still sleeping Dean.

His brother leaped up out of bed, letting out a less than manly yelp. He glared at Sam.

"You're dead!"

"Hey, I warned you. You gave up the right to kill me when you didn't listen to me. And anyway, we need to go shopping today."

"Shopping? For what?"

"Clothes."

"Hey, all I need is a pair of jeans and my apron. I'm good."

Sam went to Dean's bag, and pulled out a random shirt. It had a large, dark stain on the front. "This is _not _good."

"That gremlin blood stain is just being stubborn. A little color safe bleach, and it'll come right out."

"Nothing gets out gremlin blood, and the rest of your clothes, and mine, aren't much better. We're going shopping. I think I saw a mall when we came into town last night."

"Oh, come on Sammy, not a mall! I hate malls!"

"I'm not fond of them either, but I didn't notice anyplace else, so get dressed and let's go."

They arrived at the mall, Dean complaining all the way. They turned into a crowded parking lot and Dean proceeded to drive up and down the lanes, looking for a spot up front.

"Dean, you know that with all the time it's taking to find a space up front, we could've parked in the back, and walked to the entrance by now."

"Yea, yea, yea. Keep your cake hole shut, and keep looking."

"There, someone's backing out." Sam pointed and Dean drove up, waiting for the person to back out. They did, and right before Dean could take over the space, another car swooped in from the opposite direction and took it. Dean cursed and hit the steering wheel.

"We're going to be here all day Dean. Just park in the back."

This time, Dean listened and parked in the back of the lot. They climbed out and made their way up to the mall entrance, nearly getting run over by reckless drivers several times.

"Ya see, _this_ is why I wanted to park up front. These yahoos can't drive." They looked down the street before crossing to the entrance. Just as they stepped into the street, a car sped past.

"That's the fourth time someone's tried to kill us!" Dean yelled.

"Relax. Let's go." They crossed the street and entered the mall, which, on a Saturday afternoon, was a continuous mass of teenagers.

"Fan-friggin-tastic," Dean muttered as they began to weave their way through the people. "In and out Sam. I'm not spending any more time in here than we absolutely have to." They passed a Victoria's Secret. "On the other hand, we might as well look around a bit, since we risked our lives getting in here and all." He headed into the store, Sam following behind, rolling his eyes.

"You need a new bra Dean?" he asked.

"No, no, just wanted to look at the merchandise a bit." He glanced appreciatively at a salesgirl. "And the employees." He headed off to talk to the girl, leaving Sam amongst the bras and panties, looking extremely uncomfortable.

He came back a few minutes later, toting a piece of paper, which Sam was positive had the girl's number on it. "Can we go now?"

"Yep, I'm all set." He left with Sam on his heels. He ducked into the nearest clothing store so quickly that Sam kept right on walking. Dean, noticing that Sam wasn't following him, ducked his head out of the store.

"Yo, Sammy! In here!" Sam turned around and joined his brother in the store. They had no sooner begun looking at shirts when a salesperson swooped down on them.

"Here we go," Dean said under his breath.

"Can I help you find anything?" The salesman shot them a megawatt smile which Dean returned through clenched teeth.

"We're fine, really," he said, but the salesman hovered around them, commenting on the items each selected and telling them how good everything would look on them.

"I really don't think it's possible to look good in everything," Sam whispered to Dean.

"It is if you're me," Dean replied, shooting a cocky grin at his brother.

"Whatever. I think we have enough. Let's go try them on."

"What? Trying stuff on's for chicks," Dean protested. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I know what size I wear."

"Just come on." Sam dragged him over the dressing rooms.

They tried everything on, Dean finishing in record time. In fact, Sam was pretty sure he hadn't tried on all of them. They paid for their new clothes, mostly shirts, but some new jeans as well. And socks. They'd both needed socks.

The salesman looked like he might die from sheer joy when their total came up. Sam handed him one of the many credit cards he had in his wallet, tucked next to the many driver's licenses.

They left, laden down with bags, and headed for the mall's exit. They passed a kitchen store and Sam paused at the store window.

"Look Dean, it's your apron." He pointed to the 'World's Hottest Chef' apron on the mannequin in the window.

"Hey, yea! How about that?"

"You should get a new one."

"Why?"

"Yours is scorched. It looks awful."

"No way am I getting a replacement. That apron and I have a history."

"Suit yourself."

"Can we get out of here, please?"

Sam turned and they once more made their way to the exit. They arrived at the doors and got out of the mall without incident. The parking lot was another story.

"What row did we park in?"

"I have no idea Dean."

"Sam! You're supposed to be the one that keeps track of that kind of thing!"

"Why? Because you can't be responsible enough to do anything, even remember where we parked?"

Their argument was cut short as a car barreled down the lane they were standing in, and honked at them. They jumped out of the way just in time.

"Five!" Dean was keeping track.

"Ok, so you can keep track of many times we almost get killed, but not where we parked?"

"Shut it Sam! Let's just look for the car." They walked up and down the lanes, narrowly avoiding death two more times before they at last came across the Impala, hiding behind a huge SUV that Dean swore they could live in quite comfortably.

They loaded their bags into the car and headed back to their motel, eager to put the hellish experience behind them.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! I'm rather partial to this one, just cause I'm not too awful fond of malls myself. Thanks for reading!**


	11. cannonball!

**A/N: I'm back with more! This was requested by beautiful dreamere. Enjoy!!**

**Cannonball!**

On a particularly scorching summer day in Arizona, Dean awoke to the sound of the window air conditioner in their hotel room breaking.

He groaned and rolled over, already beginning to feel the heat taking over the small room. "Sam?"

"Yea?" Sam's sleep laden voice reached his ears, muffled by the covers.

"Air's busted. We need to get up."

"You're such a baby Dean."

"Shut up. It's gonna be an inferno in here real soon. As soon as I inform the front desk, we're going swimming. I know we passed a pool on our way through town."

"Swimming? Really?" They hadn't been swimming in a long time. Fully awake now, Sam swung his legs out of bed, wondering if he still had a pair of swim trunks buried somewhere. He found them, wrinkled and forgotten, at the bottom of his duffel.

While he'd been hunting for them, Dean had grabbed a shower and gotten dressed in an old shirt and his own trunks. "Shower and finish getting ready. I'm gonna go have a friendly chat with the manager of this place." He left and Sam hopped in the shower.

When he emerged, squeaky clean and ready to go, he found Dean waiting for him, perched on the edge of the bed. "We don't have any towels," he informed Sam. "All's we got are the hotel ones."

Sam jerked a thumb back to the bathroom. "And we only have one of those left."

Dean made a quick call to the front desk. "Well, they're out of towels," he said hanging up the phone.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"You can take the towel Sammy; I'll improvise."

They walked through the pool entrance, Sam with the last of their hotel towels and Dean with his apron.

"Did you have to use the apron? I mean really."

"Why not? It's versatile. That's what makes it so awesome." They set up camp in the middle of a platform amongst the sunbathers. Sam spread out his towel, and Dean spread out the apron. They looked around.

Dean's eyes fell on the water slide. "Oh yea! C'mon Sam!" He ran over to it, getting yelled at by a lifeguard for running. Sam sighed and followed, threading his way carefully around people surrounding him. By the time he arrived, Dean had already climbed the ladder. He looked down at Sam and waved, then swung himself onto the slide.

Sam watched him go around and around until the slide spilled him into the pool and he resurfaced with a resounding "Whoo!"

Sam climbed up the ladder, waiting patiently while the child in front of him froze for a moment before gathering the courage to slide down. Sam closed his eyes and went down. The cool water felt so nice. He relaxed into the slide and started when all of a sudden there was nothing beneath him. His eyes snapped open just in time to see the water envelop him as he dropped gracelessly into the pool.

He came up, spitting water, only to be pushed down again by Dean, who was then yelled at again for horseplay. He splashed him angrily. "Don't do that to me Dean!"

"Sorry. This is fun, huh? Maybe we deserve stuff like this from time to time."

"Stuff like what? Stuff that's normal?"

"Well, yea." Dean splashed him back. "Race ya to the other side of the pool!" Then he took off. Sam started after him, catching up easily, but unable to quite surpass him.

"I so beat you!" Dean crowed triumphantly as he slapped the concrete at the other end of the pool.

"That wasn't fair though! You never would've beaten me without that head start you took."

"You don't think so? I'm thinkin' a rematch starting…now!" He kicked off the side of the pool.

"That's still a head start Dean!" Sam called before taking off himself. Dean beat him again, and offered him yet another match, but before Sam could refuse, Dean caught sight of the diving boards. There were three of them, each higher than the last.

He got out of the pool and walked over to the diving pool. Then he turned back to Sam. "You comin'?"

Sam had sat down on his towel. "Nope. We haven't been swimming in a long time, but I still vividly remember the last time I jumped off the high dive."

Dean laughed. "So do I! You lost your trunks in front of half the town! That was so hilarious; I thought I was gonna die laughing!"

"Yea, say that a little louder, why don't ya? I'll just watch."

Dean shrugged and decided to start with the lowest board. While he was climbing, a kid passing by on the way to the higher board snorted at him. "Why are you on that baby board? You scared?"

Dean turned and his eyes narrowed in challenge. "I'm just warming up junior." With that, he jumped off the board and splashed into the pool below. The kid jumped off the middle board doing a little flip through the air as he went down.

He came to the surface and looked at Dean. "High board. You and me."

"Suits me kid."

Sam saw the look in his brother's eye as he followed the kid up the high dive. Accepting a challenge from a kid had to be a new low. His money was on the kid. The flip he'd done on the lower board had been pretty impressive.

And he didn't disappoint. The kid turned and flipped through the air as graceful as a swan as he made his way down to the pool. He landed in the water with a clean splash, climbed up the ladder on the side of the pool and looked up at Dean.

Sam looked up too. No way Dean could do anything like that. His brother ran a hand under his nose, looking down at the water, and then over to where Sam was sitting with the sunbathers.

He jumped on the board several times before launching himself from it, tucking his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. "Cannonball!" he yelled, crashing into the water with what Sam could only term as a colossal splash.

It took a while for him to come up again, and Sam figured he'd probably touched the bottom of the pool. He went to the edge, and waited. Dean broke the surface, spluttering and looked up at Sam. The kid had already left. "So, was that an awesome cannonball or what?"

Sam was laughing. Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"Turn around."

Dean did so, and saw his trunks floating in the water about eight feet away.

"Well, can you get 'em for me or are you just going to stand there laughing like an idiot?"

"I think I'll just stand here laughing like an idiot for awhile."

"Sam, please!"

Sam finally took pity on him and jumped in the pool to retrieve the garment. He tossed the trunks at Dean and climbed out of the pool with a satisfied smile on his face, the occasional laugh spilling out.

After Dean was dressed again, he got out of the pool and dried himself off with the apron. Sam followed suit with the towel.

From there, they left the pool and went back to their hotel room where the air conditioner was found to be fixed and fully functional.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Next up will be a trip to the hair salon!**


	12. you look fabulous!

**A/N: Hey, all, I'm still here. Here's your update! Thanks to both StrGazr04 and Enkidu07 for the idea. Enjoy!**

**You look fabulous!**

"Today's the day Sam."

"No way. It's fine."

"Have you even looked in a mirror recently? You look like the Wolf Man."

"It's not _that_ bad…is it?"

"It is. Now get your ass in gear. I'll get one too, so you won't be lonely. There's gotta be a place in this town somewhere."

They drove through the downtown area, and Sam reluctantly pointed out a small building wedged between a law office and a pharmacy.

"There's one."

"No, that's a chick place. There's gotta be another one."

"There isn't Dean! This is it."

"You know how I said I was going to get one too? Well, I'm not."

"Yes you are. Now, come on, let's get it over with." Dean parked the car and climbed out, grabbing something from the backseat. Sam saw it and groaned.

"Why exactly do you bring that apron?"

"Well, I figured, they always put those plastic sheets over you, why not just use the apron instead?"

"It'll get covered with hair."

"Yea, my hair. Plus, I can always wash it."

With that, the two brothers entered 'Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow'.

Once they were through the doors, pop music assailed their ears.

"Ugh, not good on the ears," Dean muttered. Then his eyes fell on the pretty hair stylists. "But very good on the eyes."

Sam sighed and went to the front counter, putting their names on the list. He sat in a chair in the corner and flipped through a book of hair styles.

"Looking for something different Sammy? Cause I always thought you'd look really great with a perm."

Sam ignored the comment and put the book down. "There are only a couple people in front of us so the wait shouldn't be long."

"I don't mind," Dean said, entertaining himself by checking out the girls. "I hope I get her." His eyes had settled on a brunette who was finishing up getting ready for her next customer. "She looks like she's good with her hands."

The woman at the front desk checked her waiting list. "Dean Winchester."

"That's me!" He noticed the brunette was all ready, her chair empty. She was his, he just knew it.

His view of her was suddenly obstructed as a man dressed in black pants and black shirt, halfway unbuttoned, with a pink scarf around his neck and a black beret stood in front of him.

"Are you Dean?"

"Yea, that's me."

"Then come on! Let's make you beautiful! Of course, that shouldn't take long at all. I mean just look at you!" He pranced over to the chair. Dean looked over at Sam, fear in his eyes. Sam just chuckled and shook his head.

"Sam Winchester?" The woman called. Sam stood up and met Dean's pretty brunette at her chair, giving his older brother a satisfied smirk as he sat down.

Dean's stylist, who introduced himself as Fernando, took the plastic wrap and proceeded to drape it over Dean.

"Hey, don't bother. I brought my own." He stood back up, threw the apron on, tied it in back, and sat back down again.

Fernando looked at it and smiled as he took the spray bottle to Dean's hair. "'World's Hottest Chef'! Oh, that's just darling! So, what's it gonna be cupcake?"

Dean swallowed. "Just a trim."

"Not really a chatty Cathy, huh? I've never seen you before, so you must be from out of town. Come on, dish. What brings Dean Winchester to town?"

"Just passin' through. We'll be gone tomorrow probably."

"We? Who's we?" Fernando grabbed his scissors and began trimming.

"Me and my brother. That's him over there." He jerked a thumb at Sam.

Sam sat in the chair while his stylist threw the drape around him. "I'm Stephanie. I just thought maybe I should tell you; I'm pretty new. I just graduated last week."

"Oh, congratulations," Sam replied.

"Thanks, I mean, you know what they say, fifth time's a charm, right?"

Fifth time? Sam shifted uncomfortably at this news.

"Ok, umm, here we go! Oh, wait, I forgot to ask. What do you want done?"

"I guess just make it a bit shorter, a little neater, ya know?"

"Sure, I can do that!"

Sam closed his eyes, as he felt her fingers at his hair. He was getting very nervous.

Fernando was almost done with Dean. He snipped in a few places, then held a mirror up so Dean could see it from the back. "Well, what do you think sugarpie?"

"It's great. Better than great, it's perfect! Thanks!"

"Hey, it's what I do. And can I just say that you look fabulous!" Fernando flashed him a megawatt smile.

"Yea, I do, don't I?" Dean grinned at his reflection. "Yo Sammy! You done?"

"We're almost finished!" Stephanie called. She turned to Sam. "You can open your eyes."

Sam cracked an eye open and gaped at his reflection. She'd cut it so short it was practically a buzz cut, flattened against his head.

Dean leaned in close. "You gonna cry Sam?"

"You know something Dean? I just might."

"Do you like it?" Stephanie asked anxiously.

"I…I…" Sam couldn't get the words out.

"He loves it!" Dean said, slapping Sam on the back. "Let's pay and get out of here. Thanks again Fernando!"

"Anytime sweetie!"

They paid for the haircuts, or in Sam's case, hair butchery, and headed back out to the car.

"You feelin' a draft Sam?"

"Shut up Dean."

"Cause ya know, I figured, being practically bald now, you'd be feeling that cool air more than you did before, and…"

"Shut up Dean!"

"Ok, ok, chill. Look on the bright side. At least we won't need to come back for a long time."

**A/N: Hope you liked it! As always, let me know, and give me ideas! Thank you!!**


	13. tricks or treats

**A/N: Ok, so I think I got everyone's requests. Here's one of my own. I'm on a holiday kick, so I thought I'd do one of the kids trick or treating on Halloween. It's a bit different from previous entries. Again, if there's anything you want to see, let me know and I'll get it typed up! Enjoy!**

**Tricks or treats**

Ten year old Dean Winchester adjusted his knight costume, tucking the dagger into his belt. He glanced over at his little brother and straightened the hat of his Robin Hood costume.

"Watch it with that crossbow Sammy."

"It's fake. You don't have to worry," Sammy replied obliviously.

Dean exchanged a knowing look with their father, who was waiting to take them door to door. Lots of kids dressed like knights and Robin Hood, but no one else had real weapons. No one else needed them.

"Maybe next year, you can be a cowboy," John suggested to Dean, hinting that he'd be handling a gun soon.

"Cool. You ready to go Sammy?"

"I'm ready." Sammy hefted the crossbow and raced to the door of their hotel room with his brother behind him, John bringing up the rear, keeping his eyes and ears open for trouble.

If people only knew what was out there, they would never let their kids go out trick or treating. John had been reluctant but Sammy had begged and pleaded. It wasn't something they'd gotten to do before and Sammy's puppy dog eyes had penetrated John's hard exterior and he'd given in. He touched the gun at his waist, making sure it was still there. He was prepared for anything.

They arrived at the first house and rang the doorbell. John stood with them on the porch, his head spinning in every direction, looking for a movement that was out of place. There were all sorts of things wandering around on Halloween.

The boys received a candy each, and compliments on their costumes, although the woman who'd answered the door gave John a strange look when her eyes fell on the weapons both boys carried. She couldn't be sure, but the crossbow the younger boy carried looked so real.

They moved on from house to house, and although no strange activity had occurred so far, John didn't let his guard down. They were at the end of the block when Dean's eyes landed on a dark house perched on top of a small hill, away from the others. "Let's go there! It doesn't look like anyone else is, so the candy will be all ours!" Sammy followed after him, but both skidded to a halt as John's voice reached their ears.

"Hold it boys!"

Dean turned around. "What is it Dad?"

"I'm getting a bad vibe from that house. You're not going up there." His eyes flicked to the house where he'd caught a slight movement, the rustle of curtains in the window. Something was in there. And he had to find out what, and do away with it if necessary.

"You two stay here. Dean, keep an eye on Sammy." After an obedient nod from Dean, John headed up to the house.

"Where's Dad going? He didn't want us going up there, so why is he?" Sammy looked worried.

"Relax. Dad's just going to get us some candy." Dean didn't like lying to his brother, but it had to be done. Sammy wasn't ready to know about why Dad was gone all the time or why they never stayed in one place for long.

They waited and waited, and Dean began to get concerned, pacing in a tight circle around Sammy, who had sat down on the ground, his pumpkin bucket of candy sitting next to him. He unwrapped a chocolate and popped it into his mouth.

"Ok, that's it. I'm taking you back to the room, then I'm going after him."

"You're not leaving me behind!" Sammy argued. He was just as worried as Dean.

"Oh, yes, I am, now come on." He pulled Sammy's arm, but he wouldn't budge.

"Sammy!"

"No, I'm going with you!"

Dean relented, letting go of his arm, but giving him a kick in the leg that sent Sammy howling.

"Oh, stop being such a baby! I could've kicked you way harder than that."

Sammy glared up at him, rubbing the spot on his leg where Dean had kicked him. He stood up and swung his bucket around, hitting Dean in the chest with it.

"You're gonna pay for that!" Dean said through clenched teeth. He became more infuriated when Sammy laughed at him, running away toward the creepy old house.

"Sammy, you freak! Get back here!" Dean took off after him, catching up to find Sammy bending to retrieve his crossbow, which he'd dropped. Another kick, this time to Sammy's backside, caused the boy to let out a yell, whirling around to face Dean.

"You jerk!"

"Shut up or someone'll hear you!" Dean hissed, and Sammy's next yell died in his throat. They were in front of the house. There was no sign of their father anywhere. Dean led Sammy around the length of the house, eyes peeled for John. Nothing.

Worry increasing, Dean decided enough was enough. He looked at Sammy. "I know you're probably going to be a horrible shot with that thing, but keep it ready just in case."

"But it can't do anything, right? Cause it's fake. It's fake, right Dean?" The little boy's face was verging on panic. Dean sighed, finding it necessary to divulge a little bit of information.

"It's real Sammy. Dad wants us to be able to defend ourselves. He's gonna start teaching you how to shoot it tomorrow."

"But why do we need to defend ourselves?" No reply. He'd said enough. Dean drew the dagger from his belt and crept up the rickety old stairs toward the door. Trembling and hoping he wouldn't have to shoot the cross bow, Sammy followed.

Rather than knock on the door, Dean opted for a dramatic entrance, kicking at the old door until it gave way, swinging open to reveal a nicely decorated, cozy living room. To his surprise, John was sitting on the couch with a cup of cocoa, while a man relaxed in an easy chair and a woman sat in a rocking chair. Dean dropped the dagger, bending instantly to pick it up and growling at Sammy when he felt his brother's foot connect with his rear end.

John looked up at their entrance, a hint of darkness crossing his features at their disobedience. He had told them to stay behind in case of danger.

Dean knew that look. A lecture was on the horizon. He'd disobeyed by not staying where he'd been told and had also brought Sammy into things. Double whammy.

John made introductions. "Jacob, Mae, these are my boys, Dean and Sam. Boys, this is Jacob and Mae Wickersham. Your mother and I knew them from way back. They moved before Dean was born."

"Would you boys like some cocoa?" Mae asked.

"Yes, please," Dean said politely, speaking for them both. She ushered them to the sofa while she went into the kitchen.

"We'll discuss this later," John whispered to Dean.

"Yes sir," Dean whispered back. He was in for it now, he knew that much.

**A/N: I thought of this chap when a thought popped in my head of the boys trick or treating but having real weapons, just in case. It was begging to be typed out. Granted, it's a departure from my more humorous chaps, but I hope you liked it anyway! Thanks for reading!**


	14. on to the cinema!

**A/N: I was going to call this fic complete, but got inspired to do one more. So, this is my own idea wherein the boys take in a movie. Enjoy!**

**On to the cinema!**

The morning sunlight streaming through the thin blinds brought Sam back from a deep sleep. He yawned and stretched, sitting up to find the bed across from him empty.

"Dean?"

"Over here Sammy." Sam turned and found his brother in a chair in the corner of their room, looking at the newspaper.

"Looking for a new case?" he asked, getting up and moving to his bag for some clean clothes.

"Nope. We are going to see a movie today."

"A movie? We haven't seen a movie since…since…well I can't even remember. It's been that long."

"Exactly. Problem is, everything I'm finding is either a chick flick or some kid's movie. I want explosions, car chases, shootouts, and lots of sex, swearing, and violence."

"Good luck then. I'll take a shower while you pick something."

When Sam emerged, clean and dressed, Dean had his shoes on and his keys in his hand.

"Find something?"

"Yep. Some old cheap theater across town is showing Friday the 13th. Not exactly what I wanted, but hey, it's a classic." He motioned to the door and Sam followed. A movie would be fun, even if it was a slasher flick.

When they arrived and bought tickets, Sam couldn't help but notice that the crowd consisted mostly of women. He didn't want to be sexist, but he'd always thought that gory slasher movies were more of a guy thing. He nudged Dean. "Have you noticed that there are mostly women here, and the other men that are here don't look too happy."

Dean looked around and shrugged. "My kind of girls! Everyone enjoys a good horror movie now and again Sam. And hey, if you get too scared, I just might let you hold my hand." He chuckled and moved further into the lobby. Sam grumbled and trailed after.

At the concession stand, Dean ordered a jumbo popcorn with extra butter, soda, and a large box of candy.

"Are you trying to have a heart attack?" Sam asked, staring at the food in Dean's arms.

"If it happens, I'll die a happy man," Dean replied. "You gettin' anything?"

Sam nodded and ordered a small popcorn, no butter, and a small diet soda.

"You are such a pansy."

"What, just because I don't wanna stuff my face with a million calories?"

There was a pause, then, "yes."

"Whatever, let's go." Sam led the way into the theater, stopping at some seats in a row near the back, but Dean kept going.

"Come on Sammy. If we sit close enough it'll make it seem like we're actually in the movie."

Sam grimaced. He hoped not. If something bizarre like becoming trapped in a horror movie could happen, it would happen to them. In fact, he was surprised it hadn't.

_Hell_, he thought, _our lives are a horror movie_.

He moved into the front row where Dean had plopped himself. "Can you move your popcorn at least so I can sit down?"

Dean glanced at the huge bucket of popcorn in the seat next to him. "No can do Sammy. Seat's taken. Move around to the other side." He gestured to the seat on his right. Sam sighed and moved past his brother, crashing into the seat. The floor beneath him was sticky and his seat was threadbare. A wonderful start.

The movie began. As soon as the title flashed across the screen, a high pitched protest could be heard from the seat next to Sam. "WHAT?!"

"The Notebook?" Sam said, puzzled. He turned to Dean. "I thought it was supposed to be Friday the 13th."

"It was. I read it with my own two eyes," Dean said angrily. He turned in his seat to the unhappy man behind him, sitting next to his wife. "What happened to the horror movie?"

"This is a horror movie," the man grumbled, receiving a smack from his wife. "Friday the 13th was last week."

Dean turned back around. "Damn it! I was reading last week's paper!"

Sam smirked. He didn't want to see this movie any more than Dean did, but it was still kind of funny. Dean stuck a glare on his face, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth and washing it down with a long slurp of soda.

"We could leave," Sam suggested.

"No way. I paid two bucks to get in here."

"Yea, plus the 30 you spent on food," Sam replied wryly.

"It wasn't that much. Just shut up."

"If you get too sad Dean, you can hold my hand. Here's something for you to wipe your eyes with." He handed Dean a napkin.

"Bite me," came the reply. Sam settled in his seat and tried to concentrate on the movie. It wasn't his kind of movie, but he had sat through them before. Not with Dean, of course.

About halfway through the movie, a piece of popcorn flew through the air, hitting the screen. Sam blinked, and looked at Dean. He was sitting in his seat, munching popcorn and trying to stay awake. Sam turned back to the movie. A moment later, another kernel sailed through the air.

Sam turned to his brother. "Cut it out! You'll get us thrown out."

"I'm bored."

"So? Stop being so immature."

"Are you crying?!"

"What? No, of course not!"

"You were too!"

"No, I wasn't. I just had something in my eye." Sam scrubbed his hand across his eyes to illustrate.

"Yea, whatever. You were crying." He shoved in another handful of popcorn, wiping his hand on Sam's jacket.

"Stop it!"

"You gonna cry again Sammy?"

"Shhh!" Their argument was cut short by the woman behind them.

"Sorry," Sam murmured, shooting Dean a glare. Dean held up both hands in surrender and offered the box of candy to Sam.

Sam waved it off, and went back to watching the movie.

When it was over, he wiped at his eyes again, and looked over at the seat next to him. He half expected Dean to be fast asleep, but he wasn't. He was gone. He peered up the aisle, seeing his brother moving as fast as he could for the doors, leftover food and drink balanced in his arms. Sam allowed himself an eye roll and followed Dean out.

"That wasn't so bad," he said once they reached the car.

"Speak for yourself. Not only did I just sit through a chick movie, I sat through it with _you_. That's just all kinds of wrong. Two dudes going to a chick flick…" he shuddered and pulled the car door open. "Let's just forget and get back. I wanna get _this_ week's paper and look for a new case."

"Sounds good to me," Sam replied. He plucked a kernel of popcorn of Dean's bucket, placed in between them. He put it in his mouth, and made a face. It was drenched in butter. He could almost feel his arteries hardening. He looked around for something to wipe his fingers on. His eyes fell on Dean's apron, folded in the backseat. He reached for it.

"Don't even think about it Sam!" He retracted his hand, giving up, and wiped his fingers on his jacket. It needed to be washed anyway.

**A/N: Hope you liked it!! I'm thinking that's the last one, unless I get hit with another idea. Thanks for reading and reviewing!!**


	15. giving thanks

**A/N: Wow, it has been forever since I wrote one of these. This suggestion is from Princess in the Pea. Enjoy!**

**Giving Thanks**

Dean Winchester stared at the counter in the kitchenette of the suite he was sharing with his brother in the middle of North Dakota. Well, he wasn't staring at the counter; more like what was on the counter. A gigantic dead bird was lying there, just waiting for him to fill it with stuffing. Problem was, he couldn't quite bring himself to stick his hand…well, up there.

So much for giving Sam a Thanksgiving. He'd sent his brother out for the afternoon, telling him not to come back until evening because he had a surprise. The surprise was going to end up being a huge uncooked turkey sitting on the counter if he didn't suck it up and get to stuffing.

Dean wiped his hands on his apron in resignation. How hard could it be? Just grab a handful of stuffing and shove it up the turkey's…. He took a deep breath, took some stuffing, averted his eyes, and stuffed.

Once that horror was over, Dean realized he'd failed to preheat the oven. After reminding himself that he was an awesome cook, he set the temperature and shoved the stuffed bird inside. He'd just let it cook a little longer. No big deal. He scoffed. This wasn't so hard. He had no idea why people always complained about cooking a turkey. He'd forgotten to check how long it would take to cook before removing the thawed out bird from its packaging, but really, how long could it take? One hour, two hours tops, he figured.

While the turkey was cooking, Dean rummaged in the small fridge for the other items he'd bought. A pumpkin pie, cranberries, and some mashed potatoes completed the meal. They'd have to eat it on plastic plates but Sam would understand that. At least they had silverware. Dean cleared off the pamphlets and hotel ads from the small square table and set the plates and silverware down. It wasn't the best, but for them, it was good.

He couldn't remember the last Thanksgiving they'd celebrated. He supposed they didn't have much to be thankful for. Except for each other. Apparently, that had never been enough for their father. Dean flinched at his thought. He shouldn't be hard on the guy. Besides, it wasn't like they had celebrated any other holidays. It had always been up to him to provide his brother with something resembling a Christmas.

The only thing they'd really acknowledged during their childhood were their birthdays, which were always celebrated with an ice cream cone and a crisp $20 bill, to be spent in any way the birthday boy saw fit. Dean smiled at the memory. Even up to the time their father had vanished, birthdays were celebrated the same way. Even at Stanford, every year Sam received a $20 bill in the mail, each one postmarked from a different part of the country.

Shaking his head out of the past, Dean made sure everything looked ready before venturing back into the kitchen to check on the turkey. It didn't look any different from when he'd first put it in. Oh, well, he still had some time left.

One hour later, he was panicking. Sam would be back any moment, and the bird was nowhere near being done. How long did it take one of these stupid things to cook? Dean cursed all turkeys and instead focused on the other components of the meal. Eyes falling on the pumpkin pie, he realized he hadn't bought any whipped cream.

He wasn't sure about Sam, but he wasn't eating that pie without whipped cream. He glanced at the oven. The thing was cooking slower than an old person driving. He had time to run down the street to the store and pick up a can of whipped cream. Not bothering to take off his apron, he left.

When he returned with the can, everything was as it should be-except the damn turkey still wasn't done! Disgusted he wrenched open the oven and grabbed the pan the turkey was sitting in. Big mistake. He screamed and dropped the hot pan, spilling stuffing on the floor along with the pale turkey.

Blowing furiously on his hands and fanning them in the air, Dean forced himself to calm down. God, he needed some pot holders. He added them to his mental grocery list and stared down at the mess on the kitchen floor. He heaved a heavy sigh and began cleaning up what had been a promising main course.

When Sam walked in the hotel room, the first thing he saw was the square table set with plates and silverware. In the center was a container of mashed potatoes and a dish of cranberries.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Hey Sam, you're back. I just wanted to put together a little Thanksgiving dinner for you. There's a pumpkin pie in the fridge after we get done with this stuff."

"Wow, Dean, this is great! I don't remember us ever having a thanksgiving. Thanks!"

"I'm the awesome big brother. It's my job. Now sit down. I'm starving."

"Me too. Hey, did you make a turkey?"

"Umm, about that…things happened…I don't wanna talk about it. But I got the next best thing." He came out of the kitchen with two footlong turkey subs and placed one in front of Sam.

"I forgot what you liked, so I just got tons of jalepenos on it."

"Gee thanks," Sam said dryly, opening his sandwich to pick off the offending peppers. "Thanks again though Dean. Hey, we should say what we're thankful for."

Chewing a big bite of sandwich, Dean thought a moment. "I'm thankful for the men and women over a Subworld being open today."

"Seriously Dean. I'm thankful for my family and the chance to have rare moments of normalcy in between the chaos that is our lives."

"Ok, fine. I'm thankful for family too. I'm also thankful for my baby out there all alone in the cold and for this apron. Oh, and I'm also thankful for the supernatural community taking a day off now and then so we can enjoy those moments of normalcy."

Sam raised his plastic cup of soda. "Cheers." Dean clinked his cup to Sam's and took a drink.

"Happy Thanksgiving Sam."

"Happy Thanksgiving Dean."

**A/N: Hope you liked it! I appreciate all reviews; they're great and so are you guys, saying such nice things! Thanks for reading!!**


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